There is no time like the present
by ThanksIllPass
Summary: That's when she said I don't hate you boy / I just want to save you while there's still something left to save / That's when I told her I love you girl / But I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have


As soon as Clint Barton sat at her table, Natasha knew he was up to something; he wasn't a kind of guy who walked into the library without an ulterior motive. He was a kind of guy who tried to light her hair on fire in primary school, who peek under her skirt in middle school, and who catcalled after her now. That was the kind of guy Clint Barton was.

Natasha intended to ignore him, which, after years of practice, came natural to her, but after a while she felt that something was off. She cast a glance at him from over her book and she realized that Clint wasn't doing _anything_ that could be ignored. He just sat there, resting his chin on his fists, smiling at her dreamily.

"What are you doing?" she asked with suspicion.

"Nothing," he replied with a sweet smile that made her skin crawl.

"_That's_ it… Well, it's creeping me out. Stop it."

"Go out with me."

Natasha gaped, as unattractive and unsophisticated that was. She closed her book and turned her face to Clint whose, now painstakingly obvious, fake love-struck expression didn't change, and blinked slowly. "Excuse me?"

"Go out with me, today, after school," Barton said. His tone was confident and with that annoying hint of not taking no for an answer.

Natasha pretended to consider it for a while. "No."

"What, why?" Clint was genuinely surprised, she had to give that to him. It was gross and insulting, but somehow impressive.

"If I had a week it wouldn't be enough to list all the reasons why," she said calmly, opening her book again and going back to the original plan of ignoring Barton.

"Wait, are you serious right now? For real? You're telling me you don't want a piece of this?"

"That's exactly what she's saying, so shut the hell up or get out of here," some girl at the table hissed and Natasha smirked. Barton huffed and got up, not breaking eye contact with the girl and making sure the chair screeched. "Yeah, very mature, Clint, keep walking."

"Fuck you, Kate. Catch you later, Nat."

"I'd rather not," Natasha muttered under her breath.

The girl, Kate, chuckled nervously. "How do you stand him?"

"I don't."

"Heh, that's about right, I guess. So, Natasha, huh? You Russian or something?"

Natasha closed her book again and looked at Kate. She was small and pretty, with dark hair and fierce eyes. "Da."

"Oh, cool. So how do you know Clint? He just, like, stalked his way into your life? He did into mine. Probably into everyone's. The difference is, I am, like, _genetically designed_ to adjust to him, you know? To take his BS? It's all pretty much fake but still annoying as hell. I'm pretty sure I'm his only real friend. We were on archery team in middle school together. Then he quit and- Am I talking too much?"

Natasha was… confused. How did this happen? Did she just trade Clint Barton for a female version of Clint Barton?

"I am talking too much, sorry about that, I'm sorry, I just-" Kate started to babble. She bit her lips and dropped her gaze. "Look, I really need you to go out with Clint."

Natasha sighed and gathered her books into her bag. When she got up, Kate practically threw herself across the table to grab her hand. Natasha's first instinct was to twist her arm and snap it like a twig, but she opted for simply batting the hand away. "No, please, hear me out. Please. Five minutes. It's all I ask."

"What's in it for me?"

"Oh, wow, I did not expect that. Um, what do you want?"

"Leave?"

"Oh, well, obviously, but besides that? Um, you take a bus, right? I could, maybe, pick you up for school for, say, two weeks?"

Natasha considered; that was definitely a good deal that could have been made even better. "Four."

"Deal."

"I'm listening."

Natasha sat back, and Kate sighed with relief. "One date. _Today_. After school. Public, well-lit, open space. So no one gets stabbed in the dark alley at the back of some suspicious bar."

"It's all the same to me, I can take care of myself."

"Oh, no, I know, I was talking about Clint. I don't want _him_ to get stabbed in the dark alley at the back of some suspicious bar."

Natasha smiled. Kate was amusing. If Clint was anything like her, once you got passed the wall of bullshit he was hiding behind, the whole operation could, perhaps, not turn out to be a complete disaster. Natasha only hoped Barton didn't like purple as much as Kate did. "Alright. I deal with Clint. You pick me up at seven A.M. tomorrow."

"Great! Awesome! Great, thank you! Thanks so much. You won't regret it, I promise!"

Natasha's smile would probably look more like a grimace, so she just got up and nodded. She regretted it already.

Natasha's problem with Clint Barton was that he was so absolutely and completely _full of shit_. Natasha knew that, everyone else knew that, it was just a simple scientific fact. Natasha didn't know him too well. He was always on the peripheries of her vision for as long as she could remember, but she never bothered to get to know him, to be friends with him. He was annoying and loud, slept during the class and fooled around during the break. He didn't seem smart enough to hold a meaningful conversation – it may have sounded harsh, but having high intellectual standards wasn't a crime the last time Natasha checked. All in all, she knew Clint on a very superficial level. But she knew him enough to know he wasn't always like that – he changed. Something happened before they started high school that changed him. He was always a dumbass clown, for the lack of a better expression, but never a raging self-centered douchebag he was now.

Clint was playing with Bobbi Morse's hair by his locker as Natasha approached him. Bobbi nodded courtly and excused herself. They were in the same kickboxing club, had mutual respect for each other and a healthy competition on the ring – nothing more, nothing less. They weren't friends – Natasha didn't really have any – and they definitely never "talked boys," but she knew Bobbi had a crush on Clint, as inexplicable as it was; probably everyone except Clint knew that. It didn't make Natasha feel guilty about doing what she was about to do – all's fair in love and war. Or rather, getting free rides to school.

"Oh, great, first you blow me off and now you scare off my next choice," Barton whined._Choice_? Funny, Natasha thought, but she didn't laugh. "Or did you crawl back to beg forgiveness and a second chance?"

Bozhe moy, was this really worth it? "Yes."

"Well, you can take your- wait, what?" Clint stammered and gaped. Natasha couldn't decide if it was more adorable or unattractive. Objectively speaking, it was difficult for Clint to make anything on him look unattractive, but it was also really difficult to find him adorable – that required a certain amount of innocence and moderation, both of which Clint was clearly lacking. "You're serious? I mean- well, duh."

"Save it. Front gate after last period. Try not to get a detention, I won't wait up."

She patted his cheek and left him dumfounded in the hallway, reminding herself that she wouldn't have to take a bus to school for a month.

Clint was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and he looked nervous. Good. She walked over and picked a leave out of his hair. "No detention, congratulations. Too bad you only managed to avoid it by hiding in a tree for the last three periods."

Clint looked embarrassed for about half a second before clearing his throat and starting walking. "Not everyone can be a nerd."

Natasha smirked and followed. "Is this your idea of a date? Insulting me?" Barton's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Natasha cut him off with a short hand motion. "Relax. I'm not offended. I take pride in being smart. Just like you take pride in being an idiot. I mean, you do, don't you? You must do, you've made an art of it."

Clint looked at her for a long time. He wasn't glaring angrily or staring in shock. He was just really looking _at_ her – that was new. He finally dropped his gaze and scratched the back of his neck. "Can I ask you something?" He looked up and smiled a goofily, without his usual fake confidence and smugness. "Why are you doing this?"

Natasha's mind halted for a second, but she didn't lose her composure. She kept walking, her chin high and back straight, like she always did. "Do you want to know the truth?"

"Not really," Clint admitted with a laugh.

Natasha smiled despite herself. She cleared her throat and put her hands in her pockets. "I was curious."

"Wow, that- that's believable enough, I'm conflicted." Clint flashed her a genuine smile and Natasha found herself smiling back again.

It wasn't all that bad when Barton wasn't playing his usual game. He was rather comfortable to be with when he wasn't trying to publically humiliate and degrade her to gain some sort of popularity amongst dubious sort of people. Natasha knew she wasn't really attractive to boys at school. Not to say she wasn't pretty in some unconventional exotic way. But she had red hair, pale skin, and sharp features, she was tall and athletic, but most of all, she had a "somewhat unapproachable aura," as one girl in her class had put it.

She suspected that the said aura was the main reason Clint always picked on her since they were kids; it was safe for him. He knew she was off limits, that no matter what he did, she just wouldn't give in. That was why looked so lost now and why he dropped the act so fast – he simply wasn't prepared for it. Natasha had to say she was indeed curious now, even if she wasn't before.

"How do you feel about ice cream?" Clint asked pointing at the ice cream truck across the street and then immediately slapped his forehead. "Please ignore me. Can we pretend I didn't say anything?"

When Natasha looked at him, he was blushing seven different shades of red. She resisted the urge to laugh, or so she thought.

"Are you laughing at me?" Clint gasped in mock offence. "Wait, are you _laughing_? I didn't know you could do that!"

"Is this the foot in mouth situation or did you go back to being a douche?" Natasha asked, doing her best to hide how stung she really was. Not for Barton's sake, obviously. She was simply surprised she was stung at all. "I thought we were having a moment."

"Which moment are you referring to exactly?" Barton asked defensively, stopping abruptly.

"The one when you weren't talking."

"Nice. That's really… You're a bigger asshole than I am, you know that?"

"Do you want the ice cream or not?" They both looked up and the guy in the ice cream truck raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You're holding up the line." They looked down and a couple of kids were gaping at them. "But if you ask me, you should just end this before you kill each other."

Natasha could feel irritation pooling up in the pit of her stomach. The man was the prime example of traits she despised the most in people – a crude and disrespectful of privacy know-it-all. She imagined herself grabbing the man by the collar and dragging him out of the truck. But you didn't fight outside the ring, that was the rule.

"Well, no one asked you, pal, so, yeah, there," Clint stammered and Natasha rolled her eyes. "What? There are kids here!"

"That's cute. Now, let's go before I take his eye out with an icepick. We'll have ice cream elsewhere, where we won't be judged for having an unorthodox relationship."

Clint huffed indignantly but let Natasha manhandle him back onto the sidewalk. "What was that?" he asked accusingly.

"You're gonna be a baby about me manhandling you now?"

"_No_, that was actually hot, I meant the you defending our non-existent relationship part. Are you alright?"

Natasha stopped and loosened her grip on Clint's arm. "That's the first time you asked me that." That was the first time _anyone_ asked her that.

"I have my moments…"

Natasha smiled, but didn't turn around to face him. "I just don't like people who assume they know everything and make other people's lives their business. They… irk me."

"Alright. Alright. People bug you, that's perfectly normal. Good to know. It's nice to have you down here with the rest of us mortals. I mean it in the nicest way possible, just to be clear." Natasha chuckled and leaned on the street lamp while Clint picked up a small rock and aimed it at the ice cream man. He hit him in the arm and the man yelped, looking around for a culprit. Natasha whistled appreciatively, and Clint shrugged. "I never miss."

"Impressive."

"Nah, not really."

"Take a compliment, Clint. It's interesting how you're only modest when you really don't need to be. But it's even more interesting to see you're capable of modesty at all."

"Ouch."

"I'm not trying to be mean, I'm trying to be honest."

"Yeah. I like it about you, you know?"

Natasha's eyes widened. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks so she cleared her throat awkwardly. "Now I do."

"Now you do."

The small smile Clint gave her in that moment felt like the realest thing Natasha had ever seen. She didn't like the way it made her feel. "You know, it's my first date."

"Oh shit."

"It's alright though. I don't mind. Love is for children."

Clint was silent for a while which allowed Natasha to collect herself. She wasn't an expert but even she knew that they went on this date for all the wrong reasons. Still, despite their fair amount of glitches, they got along surprisingly well. At the very least, ignoring each other's flaws and mistakes came easily to them. Call it curiosity, but she wanted to know how far they could push each other. The only certain thing was that this date of theirs could never be just plain and normal. And that alone sparked an interest in Natasha.

"Don't say that, dude," Clint said suddenly. "Let's not put a ring on it yet, but let me take you out on a proper date, alright? And by proper I mean… let's pretend! That's what dating is about! We can be whoever we want! That's, like, a rule! Just, we can pretend I'm not a douchebag and you're not a robot and-"

Clint's babbling startled a laugh out of Natasha. "Let me guess, you mean this in the nicest way possible too? I have a better idea. How about, we _stop_ pretending you're a douchebag and I'm a robot. Come on. Except that one time when you specifically asked me to lie, I offered you nothing but honesty. It's only fair."

Natasha waited patiently as Clint considered. She knew what people thought about her – that she was secretive, cold and insensitive, that she had no feelings. In reality, she simply wasn't sociable. She liked keeping to herself. There was nothing more to it. She never craved attention, or affection for that matter. She was self-reliant and independent. She had her ambitions and her goals. She didn't hate people, she just didn't _need_ them. That's why the nervous feeling of anticipation she was experiencing while waiting for Clint's decision was a novelty. She wasn't sure whether it was good or bad yet, but it was… exciting. New.

"Are you sure you're not a robot, though, because I saw you on the ring once and let me tell you-"

Natasha shoved at Clint's face which made him laugh. "Shut up, Clint, and take me on a date."

They went to the amusement park. Natasha bought Clint all the candy he could eat and he won her all the stuffed animals she could carry. He really did never miss, it was incredible. Clint did the most of the talking. He had all sorts of stories to tell, usually involving broken bones and sometimes even police, and Natasha liked listening. Usually people felt uncomfortable when she was so silent, but Clint didn't seem to mind.

"Don't worry, you have very expressive eyebrows," he said and Natasha furrowed them in confusion, touching them with her fingers. Clint laughed and plopped down on the bench next to her, stuffing his face with popcorn. She looked at him in surprise; it was astonishing how much he could eat. "I'm a growing boy, I need to eat."

"First of all, I don't think you're growing anymore, and second of all, I'm not sure if what you're eating is even considered real food."

"Look who's talking, I haven't seen you eat anything all day."

"My body is a temple," Natasha said in a matter-of-fact tone and Clint raised his eyebrows. "And temples require bloody sacrifices of cattle."

Clint barked out a laugh and almost choked on his popcorn. "Is this your way of saying you want a steak?" Natasha simply nodded. There was no need to be embarrassed. Clint apparently thought that too because he simply nodded back. "I know a place."

He got up and wiped his hands on his pants before offering one of them for Natasha to take, which was a disturbingly endearing thing to do. Natasha smiled and took it, leaving all the toys on the bench.

They walked all the way over there and squabbled about movie adaptations of their favorite books. Clint usually ended up defending the movies, but he hadn't seen _Anna Karenina_, so he didn't know what he was talking about. It started to get chilly so Clint gave Natasha his ugly purple jacket.

The place was nice and quiet, and the people working there, in addition to being very friendly and well-mannered seemed to be fond of Clint – a rare combination, an anomaly even. They had a nice dinner during which Natasha talked about the upcoming kickboxing tournament she was training for. It was surprisingly gratifying to have someone listen to her. She was very proud of herself and her achievements in that field but she never really got a chance to share it with anyone from the outside. It felt nice to impress someone.

The owner almost cried when they left. It felt nice too.

"Maaaaaan, I dare you to say it wasn't the best steak you had in your _life_!" Clint groaned with satisfaction as they sat down by the tree. The park was nearly deserted at this time, only a few couples walking the lanes. They were sitting in a lazy and comfortable silence; at one point it even seemed Clint dozed off for a second.

"Why did you quit archery?" Natasha asked suddenly. She could probably have been more tactful about it, but it wouldn't really have made any difference. She wanted to know so she asked – that's how she was.

"Not today, Nat," Clint muttered dismissively.

Natasha pursed her lips and frowned. She could have ignored the nagging feeling that there was something wrong with that answer but she chose not to. They were supposed to stop pretending.

"What's today?" she pressed.

"Uh, Friday."

"No, what's _today_? Why did it have to be today? The date? Why today? What's today, Clint?"

"Whoa, calm down there, that's a lot of questions about today."

Natasha didn't know what got her so agitated. Maybe she thought they had _something_, and now it felt as if Clint was throwing it away. It was as if they had spent all this time tearing each other's walls down and now Clint started picking the bricks of his and putting them back together. Natasha didn't want that.

"Tell me or I will call Kate and ask her," she demanded.

Clint laughed and it felt like a slap. She put her hands into the pockets of Clint's jacket but his phone wasn't there. She frowned and looked at Clint and his shit-eating grin. She tackled him to the ground and twisted his arms back, gripped them with one hand and pinned them to the small of Clint's back, using her other hand to reach into the back-pocket of Clint's jeans.

"God damn it, I really shouldn't find that as hot as I do, it can't be healthy," Clint grunted and struggled as Natasha reached into the other pocket trying not to laugh. "Nat, stop. Stop. Nat!" Clint groaned when Natasha finally took out the phone and released him. He rubbed his wrists and pouted. "Don't call Kate. She'll have my balls. I'm serious, give me back my phone. I'll tell you. Promise."

Natasha looked at the phone in her hand and sighed. She placed it in Clint's hand and crossed her arms. She took a really big leap of faith there and she hoped she wouldn't have to regret it. "Whenever you're ready."

"Thanks."

Natasha was nothing if not patient but around Clint patience seem to be a quality she was lacking the most somehow. It was aggravating and confusing. Clint sighed deeply and Natasha's chest tightened at the sound. She turned her head and looked at him. This morning Clint was another self-involved asshole from school she wanted nothing to do with that he had been for the last three years. This afternoon he was just a happy-go-lucky idiot he used to be that was _fun_ to be with. Now he just looked old and tired and defeated. She didn't understand, that was not her intention. She bit her lip and carefully put her hand on Clint's shoulder. She could feel him sag under her touch.

"My brother died three years ago. Today is the anniversary. That's why it had to be today. Sorry for not telling you."

Natasha closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. Now she understood. She didn't feel pity, or guilt, or responsibility. She just… _understood_. She felt connected. Trusted. She felt real.

Natasha put one hand on Clint's knee and cupped his cheek with the other. He looked at her with wide eyes and she gave him a lopsided smile. She run her thumb from the corner of his lips up to the corner of his eye and wiped a tear, moved her face closer to his; she could feel his shuddering breath on her lips. The only thing she could hear as she kissed him was the deafening and erratic beat of her own heart. She had never done this before but this wasn't about making it good.

It was about making it real.


End file.
